


I Had To Go Through My Worst To Know That I Just Needed You

by cheeriosandgalaxybars



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous/Open Ending, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jack Kelly Being an Idiot, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28711842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheeriosandgalaxybars/pseuds/cheeriosandgalaxybars
Summary: Francis Sullivan can't wait to meet his soulmate, David.Jack Kelly wants David to stay away from him.
Relationships: Crutchie & Jack Kelly, David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly, implied Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 15
Kudos: 70





	I Had To Go Through My Worst To Know That I Just Needed You

**Author's Note:**

> Jack is going to be Jack in the narrations but he gets called Francis a lot. This hasn't been beta read and it was written about four months ago until I decided to bite the bullet and just go with it.
> 
> Title from The Truth by James Blunt.

The name on his wrist got him through a lot. He remembered when it appeared, on his fifth birthday, and his mom had rushed to him when he sat at the table. His dad raised an eyebrow but indulged his wife with a fond smile on his face.

Jack hadn't known but they weren't soulmates. It was strange, when he found out years later, because they certainly acted like it.

(And whenever he thought about them, he pointedly forgot about all the shouting and arguing that broke out during the night.)

That day, his mum had made him wear his sleeves up. "Oh, look at it Frankie!" she had said, turning to his father.

"It _is_ beautiful handwriting."

His mother had more words than his father and she babbled on about it all breakfast. "It's all cursive and _pretty,_ he's clearly got money. No working boy's going to write like that."

And Jack was only half listening, eating his bread and gazing down at the name. _David_ _Jacobs_ _._

"Could you imagine that Francis? You'd never have to want for anything again because you'd have everything." The world his mother painted was tempting, and Jack wanted to believe that that was the life he'd live when he found his soulmate. But he looked at his father, and the look in his eye had soured and Jack just knew that it wouldn't work out that way.

And he decided then that even if it was hard, David Jacobs was the most perfect name he'd ever heard.

* * *

Joining the Newsies was the hardest thing Jack had ever done. He had to stare down the oldest, who asked for his name and tell him without shaking: "Francis Sullivan."

The newsie shook his head. "Your nickname. See, we call him Crutchie 'cause he's got a bum leg. Racer over there got his from sellin' at Sheepshead. So, what're we callin' you."

And Jack, with his red bandana and funny accent, straightened up. "Cowboy?"

He didn't mean for it to be a question, but he offered it out and the tallest one took it and nodded his head. "Cowboy," he said, "hey, how's about you sell with Crutchie?"

And Jack followed after Crutchie feeling just a bit more like himself than he ever had and he looked down at the name.

Crutchie must've seen him. "What's yours?"

Jack looked up with a jolt. "What?"

"Your _name."_

Jack shrugged. He remembered his father saying that he shouldn't go around telling people. "You say yours and maybe I'll think about it."

Crutchie didn't seem to mind. In fact, in the ten minutes Jack had known him, he didn't seem to mind a lot of things from being called a crip to the nickname he was given. "It's Patrick. Cortes."

"Patrick isn't a girls name, is it?"

Crutchie looked him up and down, sizing him up. If Jack had been shorter then maybe he would've been intimidated. Instead, it came off too much like an angry puppy getting ready to chew at his fingers.

"No, it ain't. You gotta problem with that?"

He didn't. He really didn't care but loving anyone who wasn't a girl was dangerous business. Jack knew, his dad had shown him exactly what happened to people who were sweet on other boys. So he shrugged.

"I haven't got a problem with it. Mine's David Jacobs, since you asked."

That was that. And Jack chose to ignore that Crutchie walked just a bit closer to him as they sold papers that day.

* * *

"You talk funny, Frankie," Crutchie said one evening. The New York sky was black, there wasn't even a star in sight. A storm was coming, Jack knew, but the swirl of grey he could see in the distance calmed him. He wanted to feel that weight lifted off him even if it was only for a moment.

Jack wanted to feel like he wasn't scraping by, like he was a rich man with his stomach full and a warm bed to sleep on.

"What'd you mean?"

"I _mean,_ you talk all proper and fancy. Did'cha come from money or somethin'?"

Jack knew he meant no harm, it wasn't meant to be anything more than a question, but he felt a familiar sting in his heart. "You won't tell anyone what I tell you, right?"

Crutchie turned to look at him. He looked concerned and Jack hated to see it on him. Crutchie was prettier better smiling. "I won't."

"My dad used to make a lot of money and I went to school." He left out the bit where he was made fun of because he spoke like 'the working-class'. He didn't mention how they had said it with such vitriol that he had taught himself to speak like they did.

Jack also left out how his dad made his money. No one needed to know who his dad was.

"So's you just talk like they do?" Crutchie asked. His frowned relaxed and he even grinned, bumping shoulders with Jack. "Ain't nothin' to be ashamed of."

Jack looked down at his name again. He had to wonder if David spoke like he did or if he spoke more like Crutchie. He imagined a voice in both scenarios and found he much preferred David sounding like he did. He even thought about David using complicated words that he'd have to explain to Jack one day.

"Maybe I can speak more like you," Jack said. "You could teach me and--"

Crutchie cut him off with a wave of his hand. "You wanna speak like me then you gotta watch and learn. And none of those big, fancy soundin' words you like usin'."

Jack smiled. "Yeah. I think I can do that."

* * *

Jack wondered one night if David lived in Santa Fe. He thought about the life he would be living out there. He would be great with horses, maybe he'd teach Jack how to ride one. Or maybe he worked on a farm and could scoop Jack into a hug.

He decided that he'd make a home in Santa Fe with David, though it might have had to be in his head. Whenever he dreamed of Santa Fe, of horses and ranches, David was right alongside him. He was loving him, living with him.

David and Santa Fe were the same thing: his perfect future, his dream.

* * *

Jack met a boy. He never got his name but he couldn't stop thinking about David after that. He hoped it was him.

He decided that it was.

* * *

Jack was fourteen when he escaped the refuge. Francis Sullivan went in and Jack Kelly walked out.

He told the newsies that they had to call him Jack now or else Snyder would find him. Crutchie was the only one to ever utter his old name after that moment.

"Frankie, what about your soulmate. Ain't he gonna have Francis--" He cut himself off. Jack was sure it was because he tensed and he forced himself to roll his shoulders back. "He's gonna have your _name_ name."

And Jack looked down at his wrist again. It had been one of the only things getting him through the dark, lonely nights at the refuge. Jack had never thought you could be so alone surrounded by people but he learned quickly that that wasn't always what loneliness meant. 

David Jacobs was a respite when nothing else was. Because when he saw his name he knew there was someone out there that would one day protect him from all the darkness the world had to offer.

And he stared, brown eyes searching for something in between the letters. Not so long ago he'd have felt a twinge of hope looking at them but now he just felt his stomach twist into tiny knots. "It'd be better that way."

And David helped him when no one could, it was time for Jack to return the favor.

"No David Jacobs is ever gonna matter to me, Crutch," he said. He told himself it was for good, his life was dangerous now. David would get hurt. "Ain't no soulmate out there for me no more."

So, he decided that David Jacobs was the most horrific name to ever exist.

* * *

Race was upset. He'd skipped on the game of poker that Specs and Romeo had started and had been running a thumb over his wrist all evening. Jack knew what was needed.

"Racer, wanna go see my penthouse?"

Race looked up for the first time all evening. "What?"

Jack held back a sigh. It wouldn't help and that was what he was trying to do. "Penthouse. Best view in all'a New York City. You comin'?"

Race didn't really have much of a choice as Jack placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him outside. It wasn't until they were outside that Race just buried his head in his hands.

It was silent for what felt like decades. Jack was sure Race wasn't crying, he had known him for years and was positive that wasn't what was happening. This was new territory and Jack was so far out of his depth he was floundering for something, anything to put his feet on.

"Spot Conlon is my _fucking_ soulmate."

Oh. _Oh._ "Oh, shit."

Race deflated even more. His hunched shoulders fell in on themselves and for one terrible moment Jack thought he would collapse.

"I found him today," Race said and his voice cracked, "he came by when I was sellin' and he started talkin' 'bout how I was basically Brooklyn and that I should swing by the lodgin' house."

Jack would have to punch Spot when he saw him next. Whatever he did broke Race's heart _and_ he tried to steal a newsie from Manhattan?

"And then, I see his name. And it says _my name._ And so's I tell him 'cause there ain't no way I'm lettin' that go."

Race had taken his hands away from his face and was instead stroking his name. "And he looked me in the eye Jack and _tells me_ that that wasn't right. That my name ain't _fuckin'_ Anthony, like he'd know, and _ran!_ "

Race was somewhere between sobbing and screaming out in anger as he finished. Jack patted his back.

"Spot Conlon don't deserve you Racer. You could have someone else, you don't gotta have him," Jack soothed.

Race lashed out and shrugged out of Jack's hold. "What'd you know? You ain't ever gonna live a life with yours. David is gonna be doin' this when he finds out you don't want him."

Race ran then, shimmying back down to the rest of the boys and Jack was left with a biting breeze on his neck. He might die if he had to see David like that. But then he reminded himself, David would be worse off by his side.

David Jacobs was a sour taste in his mouth, that was all he was.

* * *

There was a new kid. Well, two new kids, but Jack only had eyes for one.

He told Weasel he'd pay once he sold the papers and Jack stifled a laugh. Surely, the kid was joking, right?

He was told that he had to pay up front and _then_ asked if they bought back the ones he didn't sell and Jack had to wonder how someone could be that naïve.

And, as if it couldn't get any better, the new kid had the guts to turn back and tell Weasel: "You only gave me nineteen."

Oh, new kid was going to be _so_ fun.

Jack marched over there with a purpose, snatching the papers from his hands and counting. New kid was right, he had only been given nineteen. It made Jack wonder about how much he'd been given but that would be worried about later.

Jack raised a hand and cut off Weasel's rant. "Woah, new kid's right Weasel. You gave him nineteen."

He grinned at Oscar, having thought up the perfect thing to say. "I'm sure it was an honest mistake on account'a Oscar can't count to twenty with his shoes on."

With Oscar riled up, Jack chuckled and waltzed to pay for a couple more papers. He flipped the coin down. "Give him another fifty papes."

New kid looked affronted and refused with a wave of his hand. "I don't want more papes."

The laughing stopped. "What kinda newsie don't want more papes?"

The newsies whispered in agreement and new kid shifted uncomfortably under everybody's gaze.

Oscar still gave new kid the papers and he seemed to reluctantly accept. Problem was, he then came storming over to Jack. "I'm no charity case," he said, "I don't even know you."

The smaller new kid jumped in. "His name's Jack."

Well, at least someone was paying attention.

"This here's the famous Jack Kelly," Crutchie told the new kid. "He once escaped jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage. Made all the papes."

He'd have to thank Crutchie for the sell later, maybe he could buy him something to eat. However, Jack saw an opportunity.

"How old are you, kid?" he asked the smaller one. He really needed their names, he couldn't keep calling them new kid and smaller new kid.

"Ten," the small one replied immediately, "almost."

Jack loved the little ones, especially when they first start selling. Always eager to impress, always trying to be more. Jack remembered being like that and he laughed. "If anybody asks, you're seven. Younger sells more papes, and if we're gonna be partners--"

"Who says we want a partner?" Jack turned to the new kid and opened his mouth with a reason.

(There really wasn't one, Jack just wanted to get to know them. The older one more. He couldn't explain it, he just felt _connected_ to him in a way he'd never felt with anyone before.)

"Sellin' with Jack is the chance of a lifetime," Crutchie cut in. Jack really needed to get him something now. "You learn from him, you learn from the best."

New kid didn't want to accept that as an answer. "If he's the best, what's he need with me?"

Jack really wished new kid didn't have such a mouth on him, it would make all of this so much easier. "'Cause you've got a little brother and I don't."

He shot Crutchie and apologetic look but recieved a shrug in response. He was glad that Crutchie didn't take offense to anything.

"That face could sell a thousand papes a week," he continued. He looked to the small one. "Look sad, kid."

He pulled an adorable pout, his lower lip poking out and Jack laughed. "We're gonna make millions."

The smaller one lit up at that. "I'm Les," he said. "This is my brother David."

And Jack did a double take. David. His David?

"Nice to meet ya Davey. Am I gonna get a second name with that?"

It wasn't David that answered, it was Les. "Sure. It's Jacobs."

And his David Jacobs was in front of him. _His soulmate._ And Jack froze. It was him and David. Only him and David. Everything fell away and Jack took all of him in.

_His soulmate. His respite. The man with the most perfect name in the world was_ _right_ _in front of him._

"Okay then, my two bits come off the top and we split the rest seventy-thirty."

Jack wished he could say something else but he couldn't. Nothing came to mind. Well, one thing did but he would never dream of saying that.

_I'm_ _Francis,_ _you're_ _David._ _I'm_ _your soulmate and_ _you're_ _the_ _most_ _beautiful person_ _I've_ _ever seen._

So Jack instead argued his partnership with Les and ended up with a sixty-fourty deal. He ignored David in the background until he couldn't.

"That's disgusting," David said as Jack spat on his hand and shook it with Les.

Jack still didn't look at him because he was sure if he did it would all come out. "It's just business."

And he turned to the newsies to tell them to hit the streets only to find everyone watching him. They all knew the name on his wrist, they all knew that Jack wanted nothing to do with his soulmate.

It was Race who looked the most upset. His eyes never left David and Jack squirmed the heat of his gaze. It wasn't even directed at him and he felt the burn.

Jack was so entirely screwed and he'd just dug his own grave and laughed at it.

**Author's Note:**

> I might continue it. For now it's just a concept to be honest. Feel free to finish this if you want.
> 
> Also, hello again! Not missing, just took a break during December, I'll start posting my Outlander AU again soon.
> 
> [Come hang with me on Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/marsbarsncornflakes)


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